Coming home
by CourtneyEvans
Summary: Nearly a year after her family left her, thinking she was dead, Beth Greene travels the woods and survives on her own, memory-less and lonely. It isn't until she runs into somebody from her past and her memories come flooding back in one-by-one does she realize that she has somewhere - or someone - to come home to.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

The days seemed endless. They were always hot – the sun seemed to orbit around her head instead of the Earth – and the only thing they ever consisted of was walking, scavenging, and killing Walkers.

She listened intently to the sound of the leaves being crunched beneath her feet as she trudged through the woods, a hand clutching the hilt of the knife that was fastened through a belt loop at her hip. It was one of the few belongings that she had, one that she couldn't survive without, and her hand never strayed far from it. She never knew when she was going to need it and she was never going to be caught unaware. She was always prepared.

She didn't exactly know where she was headed. North, she knew, but she didn't have an exact location in mind. She just wandered aimlessly, mainly through the wooded areas so that she could avoid as many people, living or otherwise, as she could. Sometimes she made a quick run into whatever the closest town to her was, scavenged for supplies on the outskirts before quickly running back to her haven of foliage and dirt.

The bright side to being alone, she supposed, was that she didn't have to have very many supplies. She had a thick wool blanket, her knife, a few tin cans of food, a bottle of water, a small first aid kit that contained a few bandages but not much else, a needle and some thread, and a small bottle of aspirin that was nearly empty. She desperately needed to find some more of that stuff, she knew. With the heat as bad as it was, the headaches that plagued her were bothersome and dangerous. They easily knocked her to her knees and, on more than one occasion, had knocked her unconscious.

 _That comes with being shot in the head,_ she thought bitterly and she reached up to graze the wound with her fingers. All that she found was a small round patch of puckered skin that she knew would never fully heal.

She sighed.

The scar was a constant reminder of everything she'd ever done wrong _and_ everything she'd lost. Most of her memories had been gone when she'd woken up in the hospital. She'd had no idea who she was, no idea where she was, and certainly no idea of what had happened or how she'd gotten such a terrible headache.

The doctor had quickly explained though. _Shot._ The words rang through her head, almost like what she imagined the bullet had sounded like, and she grimaced. It had been her fault, they'd said. She'd attacked somebody with scissors, the gun the woman – Dawn, she thinks they said her name was – had been holding had went off and _poof,_ she'd been no more.

She hadn't been able to speak in the beginning. Her tongue seemed to trip over the words that she'd tried to form and she hadn't had any luck with writing either. So, she'd taken to communicating through her own form of sign language.

Why though? She'd asked the question on more than one occasion and all they'd ever done is shrugged until a stout old man named Percy told her, _"You just said – I get it now. Nobody knows. Your family was here to take you with them and it all just happened so quickly. I'd never seen people look so devastated."_

She'd never asked again.

Months had went by, the summer had turned into winter and then into spring and she'd spent most of her time in the solitary confinement of her room, glaring out the window at the shapes of the rambling corpses that littered the city. She may not have been able to remember her name – she'd been told it was Beth Greene – but she'd certainly been able to remember what those things were and her fingers twitched constantly with the aching need to drive a knife into their skulls.

She'd been unnaturally angry most of the time. The doctor - she'd never bothered to learn his name - had said that it was to be expected. The bullet had done significant damage to her frontal lobe and he'd explained that she'd probably have trouble controlling her emotions, her impulses and other things that she'd probably know if she hadn't tuned him out halfway through his rambling.

Every week, her ability to speak improved. She went from waving her hands like a mad woman to being able to reply to questions in the form of 'yes' and 'no'. Longer sentences were harder though. Sometimes she had to think about what she was saying and her words came out staggered and broken. She hated it though, so she very rarely spoke – only when spoken to – and that was just the way it was.

Eventually, she'd been able to stumble from that damn bed and she'd been allowed to walk – she'd slower than she'd hoped, but she'd been able to. And soon after that, she'd re-taught herself how to defend herself.

Officer Shepard had given her a knife and a gun, though she shied from it, and had allowed her to take a spot on the roof where she'd practiced. She'd been pleasantly surprised when she'd realized that she was actually quite good with both weapons.

It had been just shy of a year since her accident when she'd announced to the rest of the group that she was leaving. She hadn't known why at the time, but she'd felt this unsettling need to get away from the hospital and _go._ It was almost as if something was beckoning her, pleading with her.

 _"You'll never be the same, Beth."_ The doctors' words rang through her head _"You need to take it slow. You're always going to have unusual impulses, you're going to feel weird or you may have sudden memory gain or loss. It's dangerous to put yourself out there in a vulnerable position."_

 _"I have to go." She'd simply replied._

And they'd let her. Though, it was reluctant and a few tears had been shed (not by her), she'd been given a small pack of necessities and been sent on her way.

Now, here she was, trudging through the backwoods of Virginia with absolutely no destination in mind.

It didn't really matter to her, either. She had nowhere to be and nobody to find. She couldn't remember any of the people that she'd once called family and she wouldn't have the first clue on how to find them, anyways. A small part of her supposed that she still held a grudge for the fact that they'd dumped her into the trunk of a car after she'd been shot – though she knew that they thought she was dead.

The Grady residents had assured her that _her people_ hadn't had a choice. That they'd watched as the herd of Walkers had descended upon them and that they'd had no choice but to leave her.

Not that she'd cared. She couldn't remember them anyways.

Her train of thought was broken as she heard a twig snap behind her, followed shortly by a low moan. _Great,_ she thought with a grin. She'd needed something to break the monotony of the day up.

She pulled the knife from her waist, clutching it in her right hand, before staggering forward towards the direction of the dead. She couldn't quite see it just yet, but once she cleared through the bushes, she came face-to-back with the biter.

It was a woman and. from the looks of it, she hadn't been dead as long as most of the others that she'd run across. She was dark haired though most of it had fallen out and she was wearing a tank top and cargo pants that had most definitely seen better days. She didn't seem to be carrying anything other than the God-awful stench that constantly surrounded the undead. It didn't help that it was the middle of summer and the heat was beginning to cook them. Her stomach rolled.

It hadn't noticed her yet so she purposefully snapped a twig beneath her boot, causing the Walkers' head to snap in her direction, its teeth chomping together in a persistent manner as it moaned. Seconds later, it was stumbling towards her and she stood there, eyeing the thing with little to no interest. This was going to be easy.

It approached her slowly, its feet dragging the ground, stumbling over branches and vines but it eventually got close enough that she could make out a few features of the woman. And that's when she panicked.

Something tickled the back of memory – something that she was supposed to remember, something that she needed to remember. Her heart began to beat faster and her brain felt as if was spasming.

 _Oh, no,_ she thought wildly.

The biter was close enough now that she was in danger, and the pain that she was in was so bad that was nearly doubled over.

 _FIGHT!_ She told herself, _Work through the pain or die._

She pulled herself back, her knife still clutched in her hand and she looked up right as the corpse made a grab for her. She stumbled backwards, pushing it back from her so she could get more of a grip on herself without getting bitten. The Walker stumbled forward again, agitated now that it hadn't been able to sink its teeth into its prey, and she took a few shaky steps to the right. She needed to end this thing now – she needed to sit down and try to figure out what was happening.

She decided quickly before she took a few steps forward, grabbed it back the throat and dove her blade straight into the side of its head. Blood splattered everywhere, coating her face and arms but she didn't care as she felt the body go lifeless in her arms and she dropped it with a loud _thud_ against the ground.

Her mind was reeling as the looked at the corpse in front of her, her brain still aching as she wondered what in the hell had set her off like that. It wasn't because it was a Walker, she knew that much. She'd killed enough of those in her time that it'd become a habit. So what was it?

She staggered forward, and rolled the corpse over onto its back and she glared at the face. There was nothing special about it. Dark hair, white skin, somewhat tall. It had been just an average woman.

Her brain spasmed again. _Okay, obviously not._

She took another look and this time only one word hit her. _Maggie._

 _"_ Augh -" She cried out, flinching as her mind whirled. Who was Maggie?

 _I get it now..._

The words pressed to the front of her mind and she stumbled, her other hand coming to press against her temples, almost as if she could force away the pain with just a touch. "Stop ... it," she hissed to herself. "You don't have ... time for this."

A sudden bout of nausea passed through her body and she lurched to her right to clutch the nearest tree. She could feel the saliva pooling in her mouth and she instantly knew she was fixing to rid herself of the breakfast she'd had that morning. Her vision was now blurry, her head was spinning and she quietly fell to the ground, her hands and knees digging into the dirt.

 _I am strong..._

A sharp pain jolted through her head.

 _I know you look at me and see another dead girl._

Her stomach lurched.

 _Oh._

Her vision faded to black.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

He was aggravated, plain and simple. Not that he wasn't generally aggravated - he _was_. He was just more-so today. He wasn't talking to anybody, he barely gave anybody acknowledgment that they even existed other than Lil Ass-kicker and that was only because she was repeatedly calling his name. " _Darl, Darl_ " was kind of hard to ignore, even for him.

He paced back and forth against the walls like a caged animal, one hand held his cross-bow as the other clutched a smoke in between his hand. The agitation he felt today was unusual and he couldn't exactly figure out why. Sure, he hadn't been out of the walls in a few days but that wasn't anything major. He'd been stuck inside for weeks during the winter time and he had barely batted an eyelash. What was so different about today?

"Daryl?" His thoughts were interrupted as he looked up to see Maggie walking towards him cautiously. She flashed him a small smile. He ignored it though as he eyes fell down to trace the contours of her now-large belly. He figured she was about ready to pop any day now.

"What d' ya' want?" He asked gruffly as he pulled the cigarette to his mouth and took a large drag. His eyes were squinted at her. He very rarely spoke to the brunette and only when it was necessary. She'd never out right came and searched for him, and she'd picked today of all days to do it. The day when something was bugging him and he couldn't figure it out.

"Heard ya' were over here, thought you might like to talk." She said, one hand shielding her eyes from the sun and the other resting on top of her baby belly.

"What'd make ya' think that?"

"No reason. I just heard that you 'bout bit off Ricks head this mornin' when he asked you to do patrols and you've been pacin' out here all afternoon. Sounded like ya' needed to talk."

"Don't need ta' talk, Maggie. I ain't no girl." He glared at her. She was infuriating, always had been and it'd just gotten worse with her getting pregnant. He didn't _need_ to talk, what he _needed_ to do was get the hell out of the walls and get far away from here. Maybe he'd throw together a run. Yeah, maybe he'd do that, he decided.

"I didn't say you were a girl, Daryl. Even men need to talk to somebody. Somethin's wrong."

He looked back up at her and just looked at her for a few minutes, his cigarette forgotten about for the moment as he held it in front of his face. She knew something, he decided. Her body stature was stiff, as if she was trying very hard to hold herself together, her eyes were rimmed red as if she'd been crying (not that she hadn't been doing a lot of that lately – damn pregnant women), and she was clutching something in her hand. It looked like a bracelet or necklace of some sort, he couldn't tell exactly.

"Spit it out, girl." He grunted.

"What do you mean?" She asked, her eyes wide.

"I can tell that ya' wanta tell me somethin'. Spit it out. I ain't got all day." In truth, he did have all day but he didn't need the darn women knowing that. Then she'd want to sit around all day and talk about things like _feelings_ and _babies_ and he just wasn't gonna have any of that.

"W-well, I know what's botherin' you and it's botherin' me too, so I thought we could talk about it … together. Ya' know?" The last part of the sentence was quiet. Almost so quiet that he wasn't sure he heard her right. She knew what was bothering him? How can that be when he didn't even know what in the hell was wrong with him. This woman was out of her goddamn mind.

"What in the hell are you talkin' about, woman? Ain't nuthin' wrong with me."

"You're lying, Daryl Dixon." She replied, calmly, "I know that if this day is going to bother anybody as much, or if not more, than me – its you."

He squinted his eyes carefully at her, remembered about his cigarette, took another long drag, blew out the smoke and proceeded to stare at her. She'd lost her mind, he'd decided. Absolutely fucking lost it. Now he was gonna have to go find that husband of hers and inform him that his wife was bat shit crazy. He sighed. This was not how he wanted to spend his day. "What in the fuck are you talking about?" He finally asked.

"Daryl... you really don't know? I was just assumin' that from the way that you were acting that you ..." She got quiet and he watched as her eyes fells to her what was clutched in her hand. She began running the small item through her fingers and that when he realized that he recognized it. It was one of Beths' bracelets. That's when reality hit him in the gut.

"It's not -" he mumbled, throwing the cigarette over the wall. "It's fuckin' not-" His voice grew steadily louder. It couldn't be. He wouldn't accept it. That wasn't what was wrong with him and he knew it. Fuck her. She was wrong.

"It is, Daryl. I've been countin' the days – today's the day."

He began to pace again, his hand gripping his bow tighter than he should have been. No, she was wrong. She had to be. It hadn't been that long, there was no way. It happened last Summer... Fuck.

"It's not today, Maggie. Ya prolly fucking miscounted – go back and check again. Hell, why were ya even fuckin' counting anyways? It's not like ya fucking cared about her!" He growled angrily. He watched as her face transformed from one of certainty to sadness and then to anger. Pregnant women, he thought even more angrily. Couldn't keep their emotions in check.

"Don't talk to me like that! I know what day it is! It's been a year – it's been a year since Beth died and I know it. And don't you fucking dare tell me that I didn't care about her – _SHE WAS MY SISTER!"_ She screamed.

Daryl took a step back and watched as the tears formed in the brunette's eyes. He knew he should feel badly for her. Hell, he knew he shouldn't have said what he said. Still didn't make it any less true, at least, in his mind. "She may have been your sister, Maggie. But where tha fuck were you when the prison fell, huh?" He took a step forward and flung his arm in the air. "Where were ya when we were alone? Where were you when those goddamn bastards took her," He edged even closer to her so that he was mere inches from her face. "What did you do when I told you that your sister was still alive, huh? Ya' high-tailed it off to Washington D.C, that's what ya' did. You weren't there when we found her. You showed the fuck up after that bitch had done killed her. No, Maggie, I don't think you gave one damn shit about your sister."

She slapped him. She slapped him hard.

He stumbled backwards, his mind barely registering what had happened. He saw red. God, he wanted to punch something, _punch her_ , but he wouldn't do it. He'd never lay a hand on her, no matter how bad he wanted to.

 _Beth would kick your ass..._

He shoved the thought away as he turned away from her. "Don't you fucking tell me that I don't care about my sister, Daryl Dixon. I thought she was _dead._ Hell, for all I knew, _you both were._ I loved her!"

He turned, suddenly. "AND YA THINK I DIDN'T?" He paused as he realized what he'd just said- what he'd just admitted... out loud... to Maggie fucking Greene … Rhee... Whatever the fuck her name was.

Her mouth fell open as big, swollen tears ran down both of her cheeks. Damn-it, he thought angrily. Why'd you do a stupid thing like that, Dixon?

"I k-know that you l-loved her, Daryl. And I know that you're in pain... but so are all of the rest of us. We're all in pain every day that she isn't with us. We _all_ loved her."

"But not all of you thought she was strong. Not all of you _believed_ in her like she should have been believed in. You all just shoved her in the back corner and let her play baby sitter because you all thought she was weak – she _wasn't._ "

There was a long silence.

"She was my baby sister... I was just trying to protect her."

Daryl thought back suddenly to one of the last days that he'd had with the blonde girl that he cared so much for. Something that she'd said to him that had stayed with him.

"She could take care of herself." He mumbled before he turned around and hauled ass towards the front gates. He was tired of dealing with her shit. He needed to be alone.

What felt like days later, but he knew it was only a few hours, Daryl slowly began to work his way back towards the Alexandria Safe Zone. He knew that running off like he'd done was foolish but he hadn't been able to deal with that conversation any more than he'd already had.

He couldn't believe it. He refused to believe it.

 _A year?_

It felt it had been just a few months since he'd last seen her, smiling at him from across the kitchen table, that " _Oh"_ falling so delicately from her pretty, pink mouth.

It felt as if it had been just a few weeks since he'd picked her up and carried her body from that too-clean hospital.

It felt as if it'd only been just a few weeks since he'd dumped her body, regretfully, into that stupid fucking car because of that stupid fucking herd...

He sighed and stopped to lean up against the nearest tree. Why? He wondered as he'd done so many times before. Why had shit gotten so fucked up? Why had Beth... He shook his head. He'd never know the answers to those questions, as bad as it hurt. It had just happened and it had fucking sucked. It still fucking sucked.

A part of him felt guilty that Maggie, of all people, had remembered what today was and he hadn't. He was the one who'd helped her, damn it. He was the one who'd chased that fucking car until he thought he was gonna die. He was the one who'd tracked her down and found in that fucking hospital. He should have been the one to remember what day it was. Maggie had no right.

 _And yet, she did.  
_ He sunk to the ground, his mind and body filled with defeat. He sat his crossbow beside him, reached into his pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. He usually rationed them – one, _maybe_ two a day if he felt like a needed it – but today, he'd smoked nearly half a pack and he had a feeling that he was gonna finish the damn thing off before it was all said and done. He put one between his lips, letting it dangle there as set the pack beside him and searched his pockets for the matches. Finding them quickly, he lit the end and took a deep, long drag and exhaled the smoke with a sigh of relief. It didn't totally calm his nerves – nothing truly ever did – but, it helped and that was all that mattered.

He pulled the cigarette from between his lips and began to twirl it between two fingers, watching the way the cherry ate at the tobacco. He wondered if that was what was happening to him. He wondered if the guilt of losing Beth fucking Greene was eating away at him until, soon, there'd be nothing left of him but a butt. He chuckled at himself. He was already an ass, he didn't need to be any more of one.

He took another drag and let his eyes scan his surroundings. He was deep, he knew, in the middle of the woods. Far enough away that he could probably yell for days and nobody would hear him. Why he'd let him get so far away, he didn't know. It was only going to make it harder for him to get back to Alexandria and nightfall was coming.

He shrugged. He's spent the night in the woods plenty of times. He might as well make the best of it. He'd just camp out overnight and rise up early enough to look for a deer or somethin' to bring back to camp. No sense in coming back empty-handed, especially when he knew he was going to get looks from people after making little-miss-perfect-Maggie-Greene-Rhee cry.

He sat in silence for a few minutes and watched as the sun slowly fell beyond the horizon, basking the woods in an eery but calming glow before he stood and began to prepare himself for camping out where he was.

He gathered the small branches and twigs around him, enough for a small fire, and threw them haphazardly into the middle of his make-shift campsite. Her reached around his waist and untied the rope that he always had on him, just in case, and was just beginning to tie it around the first tree when he heard it.

When he heard the most horrifying, blood-curdling scream he'd ever heard in his life.

He took off running. He didn't even hesitate.

Several very long, very tiring minutes later, he came up on the commotion. It was just beyond the trees he was standing behind but he wasn't fixing to rush out there without knowing what was going on. Ever so quietly, he peeked out from behind the massive Oak he was leaning against and began squinted his eyes to see what was going on. It was getting quite dark now and it was hard to tell.

He heard the tell-tale moans and grunts of Walkers but he couldn't see who'd screamed – unless they were already dead and he'd been too late. He took a closer step forward, trying to hear how many people, living or dead, were in the clearing.

Three. No, four. Three dead. He could tell by the sound of their clumsy shuffling. One alive. Far too quick to be a Walker and too light on their feet to be a male. So one female battling three, starving roamers. _Great._

Finally, he stepped out of the woods, shooting one arrow off into the closest Walkers head, sending it straight to the ground before running up and stabbing the next. It hadn't even noticed him. He briefly noticed that there was already another dead walker on the ground not far from where he was standing.

He stopped, listening for the third and final one when he spotted it on the ground, presumably on top of the girl he was trying to save. Taking a few quick steps forward, he reached down, grabbed the thing by the back of its shirt, ripped it off of her and stabbed it quickly in the brain before dropping it. He deftly bent to wipe the blade of his knife off with the permanently dead creatures shirt. His clothes were nasty enough without adding to it.

He heard movement, groaning to be specific behind him, and he jumped, thinking another one had roamed into the area but he sighed with relief when he realized that it was just the form on the ground moving. "Ya' bit?" He barked out, his voice rougher than he meant it to be. He didn't want to scare the girl.

"No-" came the curt response.

He paused. What in the fuck, he thought. Was his mind playing cruel pranks on him? He could have swore he heard-

"I'm okay."

- _her voice._

He stumbled forward, his eyes widened and his body shaking as he tried to get a closer look at the person who was just now starting to stand up. She was turned away from him, preoccupied with brushing the dirt and leaves from her body, but he cringed when he saw it. _Blonde._ Her fucking hair was blonde. Fucking long blonde hair in a fucking pony tail.

He let out a curse as his right hand came up, his nail bed going in between his lips as he began to promptly freak the fuck out. The world was playing a very cruel and very unnecessary prank on him. It ain't her, he told himself. Beth's dead. Shot in the head. This is some other girl – somebody who just looks and sounds like her...

"Thank you -" She suddenly turned to face him and he swore the world turned on its fucking axis.

"Beth?!"

Staring right back at him, alive as could be, was none other than Beth fucking Greene. Bullet wound and all.

He promptly bent over and threw up.

 _No fucking way._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Beth watched bewildered as the man who'd just _saved_ her bent over and retched all over her boots. Her face was pulled into a grimace and she stood awkwardly as she waited for him to stand. Should she help him? She wondered. No, probably not. She didn't think men liked to be helped in moments of vulnerability. She'd best leave him alone. He'd be fine in just a few minutes.

Eventually, he stood, his eyes trained on her. They were wide and cautious, as if he'd seen a ghost. Perhaps maybe he had, she thought. She didn't know. He had said her name moments before he threw up so that meant he knew her from – before. It was quite possible that that's what he thought he was seeing.

"You... okay?" Her voice was hoarse and grainy from not being used.

He didn't answer. Just continued to stare.

Fine, she thought. If he's gonna stare, so am I.

She took a moment to take him in – pick pocketing little tid bits about him that she was hoping she wouldn't forget later. She had a tendency to do that.

He was … big. Not fat, just … big. His arms were toned and his muscles flexed as he gripped the crossbow in his hand. His hair was shaggy, down to his shoulders and from what she could tell, it was a dark brown. She couldn't tell for sure, though. It was getting dark and her eyesight wasn't the best. His eyes were piercing, despite the bags that were heavy beneath them, she felt as if they could see through her. His mouth was set into a small, thin line that was surrounded by a small pattern of facial hair. Her eyes traveled downwards and she took in his leather vest, dirty ripped jeans and worn boots.

All in all, he was unsettling. Between the way he looked at her like he was being pulled into the past and his appearance, she wasn't sure what to think. But, although he was strange... he almost felt familiar. She could tell in her gut that she could trust him. It was a good feeling, one she hadn't had the entire stay at Grady, and Beth suddenly felt as if everything was going to be okay.

 _This was what I came out here to do._

She almost laughed at herself. Not even just a few hours ago she'd been rambling through the woods on her own, perfectly fine until a mirage of memories had attacked her still recovering brain, thanks to that stupid Walker. She'd passed out, and she'd luckily woken up in time to realize that she was in danger; three roamers had managed to stumble upon her near lifeless body. She'd barely had time to scream before they were on her and she was fighting for her life – for the second time that day.

She supposed that it was a good thing that this guy had come along when he did or she'd have been Walker bait and that wasn't something that she was necessarily looking forward to being, _ever._

Deciding that this man, whoever he was, wasn't gonna speak a word to her until he was ready, she shrugged him off and bent down to rummage through the corpses now littering the ground. She patted the pockets, turning them inside out to reveal whatever small trinkets they might be holding. Usually the act was futile but she'd managed to find a few useful items over the weeks she'd been roaming the woods on her own and she figured it was worth a shot.

She didn't find much; one mans ID that stated he was from Georgia and that his name was Ted Murphy. She felt a tad bit of remorse for the guy but tossed it on the ground behind her. It was useless and he was dead. She also found a pocket knife, a few rounds of ammunition, and a hair tie. All in all, it wasn't a bad haul. She went to stand but a rough, timid voice behind her stated, "Check around their waist and underneath their arms."

She didn't respond, though she was highly curious, and did as he said. She patted around, huffing and puffing and she rolled the corpses over. She was almost on the verge of asking what the point was when her fingers collided with something hard in the back of one of the that last mans jeans. _A gun,_ she thought. She wrapped her fingers around it and pulled it from the waistband. Holding it timidly, she stood and held it out for him to take. She didn't want it.

She sent him a questioning glance, her eyes slightly narrowed.

"Saw the gun when I took 'em down." He said grabbing the gun and shoving it into his own waistband before abruptly turning away and walking into the woods.

Her eyes followed him, her eyebrows raised in shock. She assumed that he meant for her to follow him, or at least, that was the vibe that she was getting. She had a feeling that he very rarely spoke unless needed.

Debating on whether or not she should follow, she stood awkwardly in the clearing, her backpack now clutched in one hand.

 _You don't know this man. It could be a trap..._ A voice that seemed so familiar rang through her hand.

 _But I feel as if I've known him forever.. and he_ saved _me earlier. He can't be all that bad._

Making a quick decision, she pulled the backpack over both arms and let it settle over her shoulders before following in the direction that he'd taken. She was almost worried that he'd disappeared when after a few minutes she hadn't seen him, but only once she started paying attention did she realize that the man had left obvious marks behind him. He'd wanted her to follow him _and_ he knew that she knew how to track.

How curious...

She hadn't even known that fact up until recently when she'd spotted a trail and had felt the urge to follow it. Turns out that it had been a deer she'd been following that day, but with no reasonable weapon and it being only her, there hadn't been a need for her to kill it. Too much of a waste.

She continued to follow the path he'd left her. A few broken branches here, a footprint there until suddenly she entered a clearing. In the middle of it, the man was hunched over, preparing wood for a fire.

He hadn't acknowledged her presence, although she knew that he was aware of her in the way that he had he'd briefly frozen, and so she walked slowly over to where he crouched.

"You know me." The words came out slowly. Slower than she'd hoped for and she cringed. While she'd gotten over her speech impediment, it seemed that the weeks out on the road had dampened the improvement she'd made. The words felt much too large for her mouth and her tongue seemed to stumble over the words. She squinched her face up in disappointment as she became angry with herself. She stomped her foot.

She watched as he visibly stiffened, whether to her words or her temper tantrum she didn't know.

"You could say that." He grumbled as he lit a match, letting a little bit of light flicker into the camp. She could see the flame clearly in his eyes as he looked up at her before he threw the match onto the bundle of sticks.

"You ... thought I was ... dead." It wasn't a question. From his reaction earlier and the abruptness that he was treating her with now, it was obvious that running into her was something he'd never expected to do. Obviously because he thought she was dead.

He nodded, but didn't speak. He was busy staring into the small fire that was now burning bright.

It wasn't an awkward silence. She'd had plenty of those at the hospital and this wasn't anything like that. It was a comfortable silence, one that almost calmed her. One that almost touched a fragment of her memory but couldn't quite get there. It was unsettling how comfortable she was around a complete stranger.

She shook her head. He wasn't a complete stranger – she knew him. She knew that she knew him. She could feel it in her bones. She just couldn't remember him.

 _Yet. I can't remember him_ yet, _but I will._

She set her backpack down next to the fire before plopping down beside it, holding her hands out to let them warm up. Despite the sky-rocketing temperatures during the day, it sure did cool down at night.

"Don't 'ave anythin' to eat. Didn't get a chance to go huntin'. You'll have to wait till mornin'." He said, quietly, still not looking at her.

"I have ... food." She said.

That got his attention, she noted. His head turned towards her sharply, his eyes still narrowed, and watched her as she opened her dirty, brown backpack to pull out a can of recently expired tomato soup and a can of green beans. "It ain't much, I usually only have enough to feed myself for a few days but it'll work for the night," she said, smiling softly at him as she held it out. He didn't move to take it though.

She shrugged. That was fine with her. She'd open it herself and if he was hungry then he could get it when he wanted it. She pulled her knife from her side, wiped off the blade and began to open the cans. "I got it."

Her head whipped up. He was holding out one hand, a knife clutched in his other. He was obviously expecting her to hand over one, or both, of the cans.

"Team...work." She said, handing the can of green beans over to him to open. They worked in silence, and she became frustrated when he opened his much quicker than she opened hers. Stupid bullet...she thought angrily.

"It's okay."

His voice caused her to snap out of her own personal thoughts and she looked at his face with a sense of embarrassment at having been caught again. "Not...okay." She eyebrows furrowed at she played with the can in between her legs. "The bullet... it did some damage. I can't... seem to get a grip … on things that I know I … p-probably used to do."

His eyes were focused on her face as she spoke and she was grateful when she noticed that he never once seemed to be irritated with the slow way that she spoke. It was a relief, though she was still embarrassed.

"Ain't your fault, Beth."

She bit her lip. Her name... He'd sounded so comfortable saying it, and it unnerved her.

She'd said it out loud multiple times, always testing the word with her tongue, trying to connect the dots between the four letters and her memories. But, hearing it come from him, somebody who was essentially a stranger, it was a shock to her system.

 _Ain't gonna have your first drink be no damn Peach Schnapps..._

Her face contorted in pain as the sentence reverberated through her brain. She cried out, her hands flying up to grip both sides of her head. "Augh-"

He immediately flew towards her, his hand pressed against her back, his face line with worry. "Beth? Beth, what's wrong?"

"Peach Schnapps..." She mumbled, almost incoherently. She heard him make a strangled noise.

Images were flashing through her head, like a slide show, each one of them even more confusing than the last.

Peach Schnapps... Fire... Darkness...Tombstone...Grape Jelly... _Oh._

Her head flew up, her eyes wide as she turned to face him, her hands still pressed against her temples. "I- I don't understand." She felt confused, her mind aching from the attack and her body drained. She could feel a headache begin to brew. She groaned as she reached into the bag next to her and pulled out her bottle of aspirin. She opened it quickly, dumped three or four small white pills into her hand, and then tossed them into her mouth followed by a sip of water. One hand moved to clutch her hair and she began rocking back and forth.

None of what had just happened made any sense.

What she'd seen had been... _familiar_ and yet it had felt as if she was watching another persons life. None of it made any damn sense. That blonde girl that had been in her head wasn't her. It was another girl – a happier girl. All that was left of that girl now was a broken, volatile shell and her stomach lurched at the thought.

This was a bad idea, she decided suddenly. She should have never left Grady. She should have listened to that damn doctor.

"Beth -" She heard an incessant noise. "Beth -" She felt somebody shaking her. "Beth!"

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide and unseeing as she realized that the man was staring at her, his eyes worried and his face pulled into a grimace. "Daryl," she muttered quietly before her eyes closed and she fainted.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Daryl Dixon had only felt true heart-clenching fear twice in his life.

Once was when he'd been nothing more than a kid – ten, _maybe_ eleven – wet behind the ears and naive. He'd been sitting in the living room of the old run-down trailer house that he called home, his brother, Merle, off running around the neighborhood with whatever friend he happened to have that week, when his father had busted in through the front door.

The old man hadn't been able to stand up on his own, much less walk in a straight line, and his eyes had been red-rimmed and glossed over. Daryl had known immediately that his father was shit-faced drunk. It had been a regular occurrence around the household – both his father and Merle had a habit of showing up drunk and disorderly on a regular basis – and he'd shrunk back into the old, faded sofa and hoped that he wouldn't be noticed.

He should have known better, though. His father had the eyes of a hawk, even when drunk, and he'd sneered when he saw his 'kid son' huddled up in the corner.

"What're ya' doin', boy?" The words had struck true fear into his bones. His eyes wide as his father took one uneven step after another towards his small frame on the couch. He couldn't answer. He just closed his eyes and prayed that whatever was fixin' to happen would happen quick and that his father would stumble off to bed and forget about him. "I asked ya' a question, boy. Ya' better fuckin' answer me when I ask ya' a question!"

Daryl had flinched and scooted further back into the couch if that was even possible. "I was just readin'."

"Readin'? What in tha' hell are ya' readin' fer?" The old man stumbled forward, eyeing the library book before he snatched it from his sons hand.

"School..."

"Ah, ain't no need fer none of tha' bullshit. Just useless. Dunno why ya' even go anyways. In fact, ya' ain't." The drunk man smiled ear to ear, showing off his yellow cigarette smoke stained teeth. "No more school fer ya'. Yer gonna stay 'round here and help me."

"But, dad, I _have_ to go to school." He should have known better than to protest.

 _Whop._

Daryl's own library book came down across the side of his head.

"Don't you fuckin' pop off at the mouth to me, you worthless excuse of a kid. I make tha rules 'round here and you ain't goin' to no damn school."

 _Whop._

 _Whop._

 _Whop._

"Are you fuckin' listenin' to me?"

Daryl shrunk even farther into the couch, his arms coming up to shield his head from the abuse.

 _Whop._ That time it wasn't the book but the older mans hand.

"Yer jus' like yer fuckin' mother was. Good fer nothin'." _Whop. "_ Goddamn kids – dunno why tha' fuck I ever had 'em. Should'a raised hogs instead." Silence.

And then he heard it. The soul-crushing sound of his fathers' belt being unbuckled. _No._ He lurched forward off the couch, trying to run anywhere, go anywhere but there, only to be jerked backwards by the collar of his t-shirt.

"WHERE THA' FUCK DO YOU THINK YER GOIN'?" _POP._

Daryl cried out as agonizing pain flooded through his body.

"YER GONNA THINK TWICE 'FORE YOU RUN FROM ME AGAIN!" _POP._

 _POP._

 _POP._

 _POP._

Daryl didn't remember much after that but waking up in a puddle of his own blood in the middle of the living room floor.

He never read another book again.

Daryl fucking Dixon had finally lost it.

He'd finally lost his fucking mind.

In the middle of nowhere, on the one year anniversary of Beth Greene's death, he'd finally lost his mind.

That was the only explanation, he decided. It was the only logical explanation on why he was sitting in the middle of the woods staring at a girl he'd watched _die_ with his own two eyes.

 _"_ And I thought Rick was the crazy one," He mumbled softly, his eyes never leaving the blonde haired, blue eyed girl lying next to him.

How? He wondered. How was the girl he'd carried from the hospital, the one he'd swore was _dead –_ the one he'd been grieving over – here? She had taken a goddamn bullet to the head. Nobody could survive that, not in this day and age.

Unless ... you had a working fucking hospital.

Unless … you had a fucking surgeon.

Daryl's face blanched as the guilt began to consume him from the inside. _He'd_ been the one to hold her – he should have noticed that she was alive. A breath, a pulse, _something. He'd_ been the one to shove her, what had seemed _lifeless,_ body into the trunk as the herd had swarmed them. He was a fucking idiot.

He stood, his mind racing as he pulled another smoke, his last one, from the pocket of his jeans before quickly lighting it.

She's real.

He knew she was real and that she was there and she was breathing.

It didn't tell him _why_ she was here, or _how_ she got here, or _how_ they had just so happened to bump into each other in the middle-of-nowhere Virginia on the anniversary of her death but he was comforted by the fact that she was real and she was there in front of him.

He hadn't touched her after she'd passed out, afraid that if he did then she would disappear into thin air and he would have to come to terms with the fact that all of this was his imagination. That he had broken beneath the stress and realization that today was the one year mark. So, he'd gingerly pulled her blanket out from inside the ratty backpack she'd been carrying and tossed it over her still form.

It'd been hours since then, though as the sun was just starting to reach the horizon. Hours since the girl he once knew so well had violently started shaking, her eyes unseeing as she clutched onto herself and rocked back and forth. He'd been panicked as he'd realized that he had no clue what was going on and he'd only felt relief after she'd passed out.

A Beth Greene meltdown wasn't something that he knew how to deal with. Not when he wasn't all that sure that he wasn't having a meltdown of some sort himself.

He began pacing back and forth, the cigarette clutched like a lifeline in between two fingers of his right hand as he chewed on the fingernail of his thumb. How was the rest of the group going to take it, he wondered.

Maggie'd probably burst into a fit of hysterical crying, blubbering at the mouth of how much she'd missed her little sister and how she couldn't believe she was alive. Everybody else, he guessed, would give her a small smile, maybe a hug, before they welcomed her home and let her have peace of mind.

Not Maggie though, he knew.

No, Maggie would make her presence well known. Probably make the whole affair awkward and all about her.

Daryl grimaced. That girl _really_ got on his nerves sometimes.

His eyes wandered back to the sleeping form on the ground, reassuring himself that she was still here and not a figment of his imagination. He almost wished that he didn't have to take her back – that it could be just the two of them, again, like it had been after the prison fell. But he knew that he'd never deprive Beth Greene of her family. That knowledge sunk like a rock into his gut.

He was going to have to share her and the thought stunk.

A soft moan interrupted his thoughts and his eyes immediately flew back to the form on the ground. She was awake and sitting now, her eyes blinking rapidly as she tried to focus on her surroundings. She was clutching the side of her head, again, as if she had the worst headache in the world. She looked lost and lonely – that was, until her eyes landed on him. And then she looked as if he was a Walker himself.

"Who are you?" She asked, her voice holding a timbre of fear.

 _Well, shit._

His body stiffened. "You don't remembe me?" He asked softly, staying rooted to where he was. He didn't want to move for fear of frightening her even more than she already was.

Memory loss?

So inconvenient, he thought bitterly.

Beth shook her head, tendrils of long blonde hair falling from her ponytail and into her face. Her eyes were wary, her bottom lip sucked into her mouth and her right hand was now resting on the hilt of her knife that was still tucked into the hip of her jeans. "Who are … you? Tell me..." She demanded again.

The words were short and it seemed as if she'd rolled them over in her head a million times before they'd actually escaped her mouth, but he listened patiently. He understood that she probably had some minor issues. A few he'd already encountered.

Memory loss. Slow speech. Temper tantrums, he thought with a chuckle as he remembered back to her foot stomping show from earlier when she's gotten flustered.

"Names Daryl. I found ya' about a quarter of a mile from here earlier, you were fightin' with some walkers and I helped ya' out."

She pondered his answer, her head cocked to the side like she'd always used to do when he gave her something to think about. His stomach turned at the familiarity. The first familiar thing she'd done since he'd found her.

"Daryl."

He nodded.

"Nice … to meet you. I'm Beth." She said before flashing him a wide smile.

"I know," He said simply. "I knew ya' before -" He motioned towards her head.

Her smile quickly disappeared as her hand flew to the small scar, her forefinger tracing the outline. "We had a … conv-" she stopped, "We had a … _talk_ earlier didn't we?"

He grimaced inwardly. Obviously big words were a problem.

"Yup."

"Oh...sorry." A sad expression now crossed her face as her mind wandered. "I … have problems … thinkin' sometimes..."

"Nuthin' to be sorry for. Ain't yer fault."

"Actually … it is. Got myself shot. My fault." Her eyes were looking at him, but he could tell that she was seeing things that weren't there. Her mind was probably trying to fill in the white spots in her memory, he figured. A bullet to the head had to do some damage.

He didn't say anything. He couldn't figure out how much was too much to tell her and he didn't want to overstep any sort of mental boundaries that she may have. Hell, she'd flipped out for no reason earlier and he really didn't want to have another one of those episodes.

Instead, he took another drag from his cigarette before motioning towards the can sitting by the fire. "Food should still be good if yer hungry," he bent to pick his crossbow off of the ground. "I'm gonna go see if I can catch somethin', give you some time alone."

He gave her enough time to nod before he disappeared into woods and out of her sight. Once he was far enough from the campsite, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and he felt his body physically relax as he leaned up against the nearest tree. He was tired, his body running on adrenaline and shock, and he could feel his belly grumble with hunger. He'd saved most of the can food for her. He needed to find some food.

As he pushed off of the tree and searched for any sign of animals, he wondered how much of her had been impacted by the accident. Obviously most of her motor skills were fine; she'd been fighting those walkers just as easily as anybody else and her eyes seemed sharp and focused. _Except when she had that freak out earlier_ , he reminded himself. The only thing that he could tell was wrong was her memory and her speech, though he was sure there were bound to be more. The brain had to be a complex thing.

His eyes caught the sign of a trail and he quickly bent over to examine the markings. Rabbit. Not too long ago. Decent size. His belly growled again at the thought of fresh meat and he stood, his hunting once again on the forefront of his mind.

Step by step, he followed the trail and he easily found the dark-haired rabbit in the foliage. One quick arrow and it was done.

Minutes later, he was edging the camp again, rabbit in hand, and he paused, bouncing back and forth on his feet, struggling to get a hold on his thoughts. "Get a grip, Dixon," he told himself before heading back into camp.

He came face to face with a bewildered Beth, her body stiff and her knife poised to kill. Her face crumpled into a smile when she realized that it was only him and she quckly fastened the knife back on her hip. "Thought you … were one of them." She motioned to the body on the ground – a completely decayed Walker lay on the ground, a stab wound directly in between the eyes. Obviously she'd been busy in his abscense and he grimaced at his own foolishness. He shouldn't have left her alone. Just because old Beth could take care of herself didn't mean new Beth could.

 _She's been takin' care of herself for a while..._

The thought didn't sit well with him.

"Got dinner." He held out the rabbit and allowed himself a small moment of happiness when her pretty blue eyes lit up and a genuine smile stretched across her lips.

Fuck, he'd missed her.

The second, and last, time Daryl Dixon had truly felt heart-clenching fear been outside of a church, over a year ago, when he'd caught a glimpse of a white cross on the back of a speeding car and her bag lying haphazardly on the ground.

A/N: Hi, guys. I just want to give a quick thank you to anybody that's made it this far in the story and hasn't given up on me.

I haven't had a chance to edit anything – though I'm sure I'll make my way through it eventually – so, please ignore any mistakes you find. Or shoot me a friendly message and I'll correct them.

I'm not fond of Authors Notes so I doubt I'll be putting many unless absolutely necessary. So, again, thank you for giving this story a chance – even if it's awful.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from The Walking Dead. If I did, Beth would still be alive (She is alive!) and well on the show and making cute little Bethyl babies.

That's enough for now.

XOXO Courtney


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"Gotta get back soon -" She heard him mumble from across the fire. "Tha group's gonna start worryin' 'bout me."

She lifted her eyes from the blade she was cleaning, startled from her wondering thoughts. They hadn't spoken a word to each other in hours, both content to sit in the light of the fire and listen to the silence that surrounded them.

It'd been three days since he'd _saved_ her – her mouth twisted into a pucker at the thought of having to be saved – and they'd been camped in the same spot since. She wasn't sure how they'd ending up staying; it'd been a subconscious decision on both of their parts and camping together had been almost natural. She hadn't questioned it and it seemed that neither one had wanted to broach the subject of what happened now. She knew that she didn't want to.

He'd mentioned having a group – _a family –_ briefly at one point during the last few days. Something about having a safe zone called Alexandria that had running water, electricity and food. He talked about somebody named Rick, the leader she'd gathered, and somebody else with an odd name. Michelle? Mitchell? She couldn't remember.

Her belly had lurched at the thought of being around other people. She didn't want to be around a large group, all who were familiar with each other and not her. She didn't want to be the outsider. She didn't know if her mind could handle it.

 _He didn't ask you to come with him,_ she reminded herself sternly.

"Oh."

He paused in his movements as the word slipped through her lips. He looked at her so intently that she could have sworn that he was seeing _through_ her and not at her. She briefly wondered what had caused the strange reaction but before she could ponder it too much, he'd shaken himself from his reverie and continued to skin the squirrel he'd hunted earlier. Weird, she thought.

It was unsettling to her that she'd become so accustomed to this man in the few short days she'd been with him. She could tell when he wanted to talk and when he didn't, which was almost always, and she could tell when something was bothering him by the way his thumb would make its way to his mouth without him realizing it. She knew that if his hands weren't covered in squirrel guts then he'd most likely be chewing on his nails.

"They're prolly worried 'bout me. Didn't tell 'em I was leavin'."

"You … do that often?" She asked curiously.

"Nah."

The conversation stopped as she abruptly stood and walked to where her belongings were sitting at the edge of the camp. She pulled her blanket from her backpack and covered herself as she leaned against the tree farthest from him.

"Somethin's wrong." It wasn't a question.

She shrugged her shoulders as she pulled the blanket higher, covering half of her face. She didn't know why she was upset, she just was and she didn't want to talk about it. She could feel him looking at her, his dark eyes watching her every moment from beneath the long curtain of hair that hung down in front of his face. She blushed.

He looked down as he finished with the squirrel, shoving the meat on a stick and then holding it over the fire. "You don't hafta go." His eyes were distant as he stared at their dinner cooking over the small pit.

Her own blue orbs narrowed and she cocked her head to the right. Was that his way of telling her that he didn't want her to go with him? Was this the moment where her fate was decided and she was left to venture through the world alone?

The thought unsettled her.

She didn't want to be alone again.

"You … don't want me … to go?" The words were forced. She didn't really want to ask. She really didn't want to _know._ Either answer, whether he wanted her to go or stay, scared her. More people, less people. It was all enough to make her dizzy.

He gave her a look that said _really?_

 _"_ That ain't what I said!"

She shifted uncomfortably.

The sun was down, the only light coming from the fire and the way he was looking at her with such intensity made her stomach flip. She was suddenly nervous and, not for the first time, she had a gut feeling that this man knew her better than she knew herself.

 _That ain't hard. Memory loss and all_ , she reminded herself.

"Then … what?"

"I'm not gunna force you to go somewhere, if ya don't want. If goin' to Alexandria makes you … uncomfortable, then we won't go."

 _We?_ She leaned forward, her back leaving the tree, her fingers clenching the wool fabric between her fingers. He was still looking at her, their eyes meeting across the fire and a shiver ran down her spine. Her lips parted, her breathing suddenly heavy as she watched emotion after emotion flicker across his face. The moment stretched on for what felt like hours.

It was over as quick as it started though, as he jerked his face from hers and focused his attention back to the cooking meat. Her body shook as the intensity of the situation began to wear off, her heart pounding in her chest. Nothing had ever impacted her as much as one simple look from this dirty, rough man had and it almost seemed as if it wasn't the first time that it'd happened. In fact, she was certain that it wasn't the first time. The feeling had been all too familiar.

She shrugged it off before asking the question she'd meant to ask _before_ things had went all warm and fuzzy, "We?"

"Yeah, we. Wherever you go – I go."

Time seemed to drag on as what he'd just said sunk in.

He looked her with an uncertain expression, as if he hadn't mean to say the last part, and he shifted his weight back and forth from each leg as if he was uncomfortable. And, suddenly, Beth knew that she could never ask this man to abandon his family just for her. Her decision made as easily as that.

"Okay... We'll go to Alexan..dria." She smiled. He visibly relaxed and gave her what she figured was his version of a smile. It was a half grimace, really, but who was she to judge.

The next morning, before the sun had even properly risen, they were trekking through the woods at a comfortable pace. They'd both agreed before she'd went to sleep that they would give Alexandria a go, and if she was uncomfortable once they got there, then they would do whatever she wanted; stay or go.

She got nervous the closer they got towards the settlement, her hands shaking as she clutched her knife in her hand and she abruptly stopped walking to lean against a tree. Daryl stopped and turned to look at her, his eyes questioning her. She shook her head, silently telling him not to ask. She'd be okay in just a few minutes, once she got her thoughts together.

He nodded before turning back around to scan their surroundings. He was always painfully aware of what was going on around them. It was a good thing, she knew. But she wondered if the man had ever truly had a moments peace – a moment to relax and not worry about what was going on around them. She doubted it.

"'Bout twenty more minutes and we'll be there."

She didn't wonder how he knew that. Tracking seemed to be a part of his DNA, almost like he had a GPS built into his mind, and he was familiar with the area, unlike her. She nodded at him, though his back was turned from her and she knew he couldn't see the motion.

"Tell me...what it's like..." She breathed, her eyes tracing the winged pattern on the back of his leather vest.

"Weird." He turned to face her. "It's weird. Too many people that don't know a damn thing 'bout the outside world roamin' the streets. Too comfortable. But it's safe – for now, anyways. We got walls, almost taller'n these tree's," He motioned to the tall oak she was leaning against, "and we have houses. Food. You name it an' we got it."

She pushed away from the tree and began walking again, his voice calming her nerves. She wanted to ask so many questions. Who was in charge? How did the town have water? Electricity? Exactly how many people lived there? But, the words caught in her throat and she decided that she was content to listen to him talk, instead. He didn't talk much, so she guessed she'd better listen while he was in the mood.

"The woman who runs the place, her names Deanna. She's nice 'nough, I guess. Don't know a damn thing 'bout the outside world, about walkers and tha' such, but she's determined to. Prolly why it's still up and runnin'. Pure determination.

Her son's a damn fool. All of 'em are, really. Naive. None of 'em knew how to shoot a gun when we first arrived or how to kill biters. They're learnin' though."

The trees were now starting to thin out and buildings were coming into view just beyond the tree line. Beth could just make out a wall further on into town, peeking over the tops of some houses. They were close, now.

"Your...group?" She asked. She was curious about who his closest people were and she wanted to have some kind of familiarity with them before she walked into their camp.

He was silent for a moment before he began, "They know ya', Beth. Just like I did. So, at first, it's gonna be a shock for them to see ya'." She nodded and he paused as if unsure what to say. "There's Rick. He's a bit rough 'round tha edges – he's been the leader almost from tha start – and, he's tough but he's like a brother to me...He does what's best for everyone else. He has a son, Carl, and a baby girl. Her names Judith, but we call her Lil Asskicker. I named her that." He chuckled. "Any of that sound familiar?"

She shook her head 'no' and he sighed before continuing. "There's Michonne. She came into the group a lil late, but she's badass and a force t' be reckoned with, especially if she has her sword. I ain't ever met a woman like her before.

Well, besides Carol. Carol's been with us from the start. She's also a bit rough 'round the edges but she'll do anythin' to keep us safe, just like Rick. She lost her daughter early on. It changed her." Beth watched him as he talked about the other woman and she could see the half-smile on his face. She could tell that he was close with this Carol woman. She felt her chest tighten with an unfamiliar sensation. Was she … jealous? She wondered. She didn't know.

"There's Sasha. She's alright, I guess. Has a hot head and she don't think before she does things sometimes, but she's one of us. She's still gettin' over her brother and boyfriend dyin'. Took it pretty hard...

Abraham, Rosita and Eugene are people we ran into out on the road before findin' Alexandria. You didn't know 'em but they're some of the good ones. Strong and reliable.

There's also Tara. Didn't know her either. She's smart and has a smart mouth. Gives Rick a run for his money sometimes." He chuckled again before taking a deep breath and getting quiet.

"Is that it?" She asked, her mind spinning at all of the names. The group sounded close-knit. Daryl seemed really fond of them.

"No. There's two more. Glenn and Maggie." He paused.

She furrowed her eyebrows. He was acting funny.

"Is there … something special 'bout them?"

He looked back at her before he paused in his tracks, just at the edge of the woods. He turned to face her before opening and then closing his mouth. He nodded.

She motioned for him to continue.

He sighed again. "Nothin' special about Glenn -" he half-smiled. "Nah, I'm joking. Glenn's a great guy, one of the best. Been with us since the beginnin'. He's quick and smart. Gets himself out of the worst situations without a scratch. He's married to Maggie."

"And Maggie is...?" She asked, slowly, unsure of whether or not she even wanted to know. The way he was acting had her on edge.

"Your sister."

Her eyes widened as she took a sharp breath. She stumbled. She had a sister? She thought. Her mind whirled.

No way. She would _know_ if she had a sister... Wouldn't she? Nobody could forget something like that. Nobody could forget somebody that they share a blood relation with... could they? She felt confused, her body felt as if it was floating and the familiar pains throbbed through her head. Her hand flew up to feel the small scar on her forehead and she outlined the circle with her fingers. She looked at him and saw the concern etched on his face. He hadn't wanted to tell her. But, he had.

Why?

The question echoed through her head and slipped out of her mouth. He gave her a confused look.

"Why what?"

"Why'd … you tell me?"

Once again, he seemed uncomfortable. "Figured ya needed to know 'fore we walked in through those gates and she attacks you. She's not tha most sensitive person – she's prolly won't catch on till she calms down that there's anythin' wrong. I didn't want you …" he grimaced, "to be caught off-guard."

He didn't want her to have an attack, like before. It made sense as her mind began to clear and she took a deep breath. Well, then, she thought. She swallowed.

"Does … she miss me?" The question was selfish. There were a million other things that should could have – should have – asked. But it was something she felt she _needed_ to know. Had her sister missed her.

Daryl nodded. The answer didn't make her feel relieved, though. If anything, she felt even more confused. Somewhat angry, even. Her forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Was I … angry with her?" She asked him.

He cocked his head, his eyes narrowed with confusion.

"I wasn't … mad at her … before," she pointed at the round scar, "… was I?"

He shrugged his shoulders. She felt disappointment at not getting the answer she needed, but she pushed the thought out of her mind. She would find out one day, she knew. Maybe when she saw her … sister … Maybe she would get her memories back. Maybe she would remember. The thought cheered her, if only a small bit.

She began walking again, letting Daryl fall in behind her, though she had no idea where she was actually going.

 _Towards those walls._

That seemed simple enough, she supposed.

Minutes later, Beth and Daryl were staring at the tall, grey metal of the wall that surrounded the Alexandria Safe Zone. She gulped before motioning him to go ahead before her. She'd follow. _Maybe,_ she thought.

She felt like bolting. She felt like running away and going back to Grady, where at least she knew she would be safe.

He walked ahead of her towards the entrance; it was built up of chain link and metal, before saying something. The first gate opened to reveal a short, stocky man with a sour expression on his face.

"About time you showed your face, Dixon. We were all wondering where you ran off to."

She watched as Daryl stiffened – he obviously wasn't a fan of the man.

"Shut it, Bruce and let me in 'fore the biters show up," came the curt reply.

She heard the man, Bruce, mumble something unintelligable under his breath before moving to open the gates and motioning for Daryl to come on through. "Who's she?"

Beth stiffened.

"She's with me," Daryl growled before turning to Beth. "C'mon."

She followed closely behind him, her skin brushing his as the entered the gates. She wanted to plaster herself to him so that nobody would notice her. She didn't want to be seen. She wanted to crawl up into Daryl's arms and let him protect her from everything that was fixing to happen.

She didn't though. Just stayed as close as she possibly could, one hand gripping her knife and the other falling to rest on his bicep. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, but didn't say anything. He just left it alone.

Beth then started to become aware of her surroundings. Her first impression was that it was clean. _Too_ clean and too quiet. She could see a few people wondering here and there. A couple sitting on a porch swing. A woman standing on a guard tower just a few feet away. She could hear the low murmur of people talking not too far away but it did nothing to set her mind at ease.

"That's our houses." Daryl mumbled, motioning towards two two-story houses further down the street. A woman sat on the front porch, a toddler in their arms. She wanted to bolt. _Now._

They got closer.

 _Here it comes,_ she thought wildly. Her scar felt as if it was pounding, beating like a heart, and she felt as if she was going to be sick. She was going to puke her guts up all over the side of this pretty little sidewalk.

"It's gonna be okay, Beth. It's just Carol."

 _Carol._ The name didn't do anything to settle her mind.

They got closer and Beth felt tiny as she shrunk behind Daryl, clinging to him now. She was scared.

"Daryl!" She heard the woman call with delight. Beth's stomach dropped. She couldn't see the woman, but her voice didn't sound familiar _at all._

This was a bad idea, she thought. Bad, bad idea.

"Hey, Carol. Hey, Lil Asskicker," Daryl said, his voice bright. Beth heard the coo from the toddler that sounded a lot like 'Daryl' but she couldn't be sure. Her hearing was blocked from the sound of her rapidly beating heart.

"Who's that behind you, Daryl?" Carol asked.

Daryl didn't say anything. Beth swallowed.

 _Now or never._

She stepped out.

"BETH?!"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

"What do you mean _memory loss_?"

"How did she even get here?"

"She seems like the same old Beth."

"How did she survive?"

Daryl swore he was about to bolt from the room and run back to the safety net of the woods if people didn't learn to shut the fuck up – and _soon._ He knew they meant well; after all, they'd just seen somebody they thought was dead walk in through the front gates like nothin' had ever happened, but fuckin' shit. The incessant talking was beginning to grate on his last nerve.

He felt caged as he stood surrounded by his entire family – well, minus Maggie, but he didn't bother to question where she was – and they were all gazing at him with expectant and bewildered eyes.

"Guys, I think he needs a little breathing room," he heard Michonne state from the back of the room and he'd never been more grateful for the woman in his life.

Everybody stopped talking abruptly, obviously not willing to ignore any warning of hers, but continued to stare at him expectantly. He sighed.

"She's got memory loss. She don't remember any of us, simple as that."

"How'd she get here?" Carol asked again, for the third time is as many minutes.

"I reckon the way most people get around these days. By foot or car and since I found her in the middle of nowhere, I'm assumin' by foot. I don't really know. I didn't ask." His voice was gruff and he was irritable. All he wanted to do was climb the stairs and go find Beth. He'd left her in the bathroom to take a shower and he'd heard the water stop running a good thirty minutes ago. He just couldn't get out of the stupid kitchen.

"You were with her for three days, Daryl. Why didn't you bother to ask?" Glenn questioned, his eyes narrowed.

Daryl made a low guttural sound deep in his throat. These people were really startin' to get on his last damn nerve. "Maybe 'cus I was comin' to terms with tha fact that the girl I carried outta that fuckin' hospital with a bullet hole in her head was sittin' in front of me _alive._ I don't fuckin' know."

"Well, why don't you bring her down here and let us ask her ourselves?" Carol demanded.

God, usually Carol was the easiest one of the bunch to be around but, right now, all he wanted to do was strangle the silver haired woman.

"Because if ya'll are buggin' the shit out of _me,_ no tellin' what yer gonna do to her."

"She's not as temperamental as you," Carl chirped from the back, "She'll be able to handle it."

Daryl clenched his teeth and tried to remember that it _wouldn't_ be a good idea to shoot an arrow into the teenagers head. "She has _no_ idea who any of you are! What are ya'll? _Deaf_? That girl upstairs ain't tha same girl that we left behind in Atlanta. She has _problems_ – you can't just barge up to her and demand answers."

There was blessed silence for a few seconds till -

"What do you mean problems?"

That time, the question came from Rick who'd been silent up and until then.

Daryl sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He needed a cigarette. He needed sleep. He needed Beth. He needed to be _anywhere_ but here.

"She has trouble thinkin', she struggles with speech, she seems to have trouble controllin' her emotions. I dunno. Ya'll will get the first hand experience _after_ she gets some sleep and _when_ she's ready to talk to you."

He was so glad that he'd ushered the blonde upstairs as soon as they'd arrived. He didn't even want to know what would have happened if she'd been bombarded with this many questions and he _really_ didn't want to have to kill somebody from his own group for making her have one of those fits.

"What about Maggie?"

"What about 'er?" Daryl countered, his eyes watching the soon to be dad.

"She's gonna wanna see her sister -"

"She can see her. _When_ Beth is ready."

"Are you sure that's even a good idea, Glenn?" Carol asked. "She'd been put on bed rest. She probably doesn't need the added stress of finding out that her sister's been alive this whole time."

So that's where the pesky woman was. For the first time, Daryl was actually _happy_ that she was having a baby. It turned out to be good for somethin', like keeping the over-emotional, personal-space-ignoring woman away. Now if only the others would follow suit, he thought bitterly.

"That's true, Glenn," Rick replied. "When Lori was pregnant with Carl, she was put on bed rest and the doctors had strict orders to keep her stress level down."

 _Thank you, Rick._

"So you're telling me that I need to hide the fact that Beth is alive from my _wife_? Are you insane? If – _when –_ she finds out, she'll kill me. She'll kill all of us."

Daryl rubbed a hand across his face and took a deep breath. These people were lucky that he knew what patience was and that he had _a lot_ of it.

"She'll understand in the end, I'm sure," Carol replied.

He grimaced.

"What about Beth? It's probably best for her, at least for a little while, that Maggie not know. Maggie isn't exactly one to respect personal boundaries." Once again, Michonne voiced exactly what he'd been thinking.

Daryl nodded in agreement.

Glenn glared at the dark skinned woman. "Maggie has a right to know! She's still grieving unnecessarily. Do you think _that's_ good for her and the baby?"

"Oh, come on, Glenn. Maggie has other things to worry about. She's survived this long without Beth, she can wait a week or two until the baby arrives." There was Carols sense of reasoning. _Finally,_ he thought.

Glenn scowled. He was obviously realizing that he was in a fight that he couldn't win. "Fine! But when she goes looking for blood, I'm telling her it was all of you."

"You got right ahead," Daryl replied, "Unlike you, I ain't scared of her."

Glenn turned to face him, " _You_ don't have to sleep with her."

"Thank God for small miracles," he replied, cheekily.

The other mans face turned red with anger.

"Now, now," Michonne interrupted, "Before you both go and try to kill each other-"

"He wouldn't stand a chance." Glenn huffed.

Daryl snorted. _As if._

Michonne rolled her eyes and turned to face Rick with an exasperated look on her face. Rick grinned. He was obviously enjoying the show. Michonne gave him a glare. Rick sobered before turning to face both of the angry men, "Both of you cool it. Nobody tell Maggie until after she's had the baby, got it?"

Daryl wondered briefly about the odd exchange between the man and the woman but shrugged his shoulders. It wasn't any of his business. Right now, he only needed to worry about the blonde haired, blue eyed girl that was probably wondering where he'd gotten off to.

"I don't know 'bout ya'll, but I'm tired and I need to go check on Beth. Ya'll sort this out on your own."

And before anybody could protest, he slipped from the room and made his way up the stairs. These people really got on his nerves sometimes.

He was panicked.

He couldn't find Beth _anywhere._

 _What if she left?_ His stomach twisted painfully at the thought.

No. She wouldn't do that. Think, Dixon, think, he told himself. The bathroom was still full of steam from her shower, so she obviously hadn't been gone for long and she wasn't in the bedroom he'd told her was hers.

Her shoes were still on the floor, he noted as he nudged them with the tip of his boot. So was her backpack – it was laying at the foot of the bed.

He let out a sigh of relief as he told himself that she hadn't left.

So, where was she?

He looked around, using his hunting eyes to try and figure out what had changed since he'd went downstairs. Her old, dirty clothes were now lying haphazardly in the middle of the floor, a hairbrush lying on the bed, the window open... He paused. The window!

He moved forward and quickly stuck his head out into the open air and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her lithe body curled up on the roof, her head resting on her knees as she looked out over the city.

She'd obviously needed some fresh air, as did he.

"Got room for one more?" He asked.

She jumped, obviously deep in thought and she turned to face him, a small smile on her lips. She nodded. "Of course."

He crawled through the tiny hole, immediately feeling much better as the wind hit his face, and settled next to her on the sloped roof. "What're ya' doin' out here?"

"I could hear ya'll. Needed some space."

He grimaced. The idea of her overhearing their conversation hadn't even crossed his mind. He'd been so preoccupied with just getting out of there. Damn, he thought. He should have made everybody go to the house next door instead of being right beneath her. "Sorry..." he mumbled.

She shrugged and they both sat in silence as they watched people move down below on the streets, going about their daily lives.

After what seemed like forever, she finally turned towards him, her cheek resting on her knee, and asked, "My siste – Maggie – is pregnant?" The words were so soft that he wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly, at first.

"Yeah."

"Oh."

He stiffened. There was that damn word again.

"What's she like?"

"Bossy. Pushy. A know-it-all," he began but stopped when she gave him a worried look. He sighed. "She loved you."

A weird look crossed her face. "I don't know why, but I … get the feeling that I was angry with her...ya' know, before I got myself shot ... Every time I hear her name, this feeling ... rushes through my body ... and I just want to scream." She turned to face the town again, her chin resting against her knees.

Daryl continued to listen.

"Her husbands name is Glenn?"

He nodded.

"They have anythin' … to do with those signs … by the tracks?"

"The ones 'bout Terminus?"

"Yeah. I saw them and I ... remember ... 'I wonder if my family would ... have done that for me'... I found it ... romantic at the time."

Daryl blanched. There wasn't anything _romantic_ about it to him. The whole situation had bothered him. Still bothered him, now that he thought about it.

"Can you tell me – about before?"

He didn't think it was such a smart idea, but he nodded anyways. He wouldn't deny her anything.

"What do ya' wanna know?"

"How did I ... get to Grady?"

He sighed. That was the one question he was hoping she _wouldn't_ ask. He dug into his pocket and pulled out the pack of cigarettes he'd had Carl go get for him earlier and quickly lit one, enjoying the nicotine and it rushed through his body. He pondered how he was going to answer – he didn't know what to say. Should he tell her about the prison and how the Governor had torn down their gates? Should he tell her about her father? He shook his head. Definitely not. That was dangerous territory. He took another drag from the cigarette before simply replying, "It was my fault."

It obviously wasn't the answer she was expecting because she looked at him with a startled expression. "What do you mean?"

"You were with me. The place we'd all been living at got overrun with walkers an' nobody had time to do anythin'." He closed his eyes at the memory, "I found you in tha middle of all of the smoke and chaos an' we took off into the woods. We'd been travelin' alone for some time, holin' up in wherever we could, an' then one day we found an old abandoned church." He took another drag. "It was in tha middle a nowhere and so … _untouched_ by this new world – the walkers and things. It had food and clean beds. We decided that we were gonna stay there, make it a home..."

"Then what … happened?"

"What always happens. The dead showed up." He twirled the smoldering cigarette in between two fingers, his eyes watching the smoke drift away. "I opened the door like a dumbass – they ran in... took over." He closed his eyes. "I told you to run – you told me you wouldn't leave me but I made you. Told ya' I'd meet you at the road as soon as I could." He choked on the next words. "By the time I got there, you were _gone..._ Some of the cops from Grady were there and they took ya'... I ran and ran all night tryin' to catch up..." To his dismay, he felt himself begin to tear up.

"Daryl – it's okay. Even if I can't … remember it, I know it ... wasn't your fault." She reached out and softly touched his arm. "It wasn't anybody's ... fault but those men from Grady."

"I was the one who told ya to run."

"And I was ... the one who ran."

He turned to look at her, their eyes locked and for the first time in over a year, Daryl felt peace. He felt as if he could finally forgive himself.

"One things for sure though..." He said with a small laugh.

"What's that?"

"I missed you so bad when you were gone, Beth Greene."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

The days passed slowly.

So slowly, in fact, that Beth had taken to counting. Counting the houses that she could see from her little spot on the roof (42), counting the trees that lined the streets (15), counting the number of curious or wary looks she received from the people that traveled in and out of the house (she'd lost count).

The numbers that rolled through her mind were comforting, though lacking in excitement, and she felt as if she was going stir crazy.

She needed to do _something._

The rest of the group – well, everybody except Daryl - had decided it best if she stayed in the house, just in case somebody saw her and accidentally mentioned something to Maggie. She growled at the thought; she personally didn't care if Maggie found out. She'd only agreed because she hadn't want to upset everybody by protesting. She was trying desperately to fit in, but felt as if she were failing miserably.

The only people she'd managed to have a conversation with besides Daryl were Michonne and the weird guy with the awful hair. They didn't try to force answers from her like Carol and Glenn had. They didn't act like she were some fragile little girl that needed protecting like Rick. They let her be and treated her like a normal person. She appreciated that.

From her spot on the roof, she could see the people going about their daily lives as if everything was fine and dandy. As if it wasn't the end of the world and there weren't dead people outside wanting to get in to _eat_ them. The thought bothered her. These people were so unprepared, so naive and she knew without a doubt that without Daryl and his group, they'd have all been dead by now. She shrugged nonchalantly. The world wouldn't miss them.

"You alright?" She heard a voice come from behind and she whipped her head in the direction. It was just Carl, the kid with ridiculously stupid hat.

"Yeah." Her reply was short; they always were with people outside of her comfort zone.

The kid nodded, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"You really don't remember me?"

She shook her head. "No."

He stared at her for a few long moments, his head cocked to the side before simply saying,"Daryl wanted me to find you. He wants you to meet him by the main gate as soon as you can. He said to be careful about it, though." He stared at her for a few moments longer before shaking his head and walking away.

 _What a weird kid,_ she thought as she stood, brushing the dirt from her rear.

She entered the house through the window, closing it behind her before making her way towards the room that was designated as 'hers'. Technically, it was more hers and Daryl's since he always slept on the floor next to the bed, but she didn't think he would be comfortable with the label so she hadn't said anything. She was fine with the way things were; even if she wished that she were allowed a little more freedom.

She sighed as she plopped down onto her bed, her eyes wondering around the room at a leisurely pace. It was a plain room; a bed against one wall, a small chest of drawers against the wall next to it and a closet. The walls were bare except for a small picture of a cross. She rolled her eyes at it for the millionth time before reaching down and tugging on her worn boots. This world had no room for religion – at least, in her mind.

Standing, she quickly made her way out of the room and down the stairs. She briefly wondered what Daryl wanted, a smile spreading across her lips, but her train of thought was interrupted as she ran turned the corner and ran into somebody. "Oof," she wheezed as she fell backwards and her ass hit the ground. Her mouth transformed into a thin line and her eyes narrowed as she looked up to see somebody she'd never met before bending over her.

"I'm so – sorry. Are you okay?" The man questioned, his face masked in confusion. He obviously didn't know who she was.

She didn't say anything as she ignored the hand that he held out and instead helped herself up. Who was he? She wondered.

"Spencer. Spencer Monroe."

She gave him a _what the fuck_ look as she wondered what he was goin' on about. "Excuse me?" she asked with an attitude, one eyebrow raised and a hand going to her hip.

"You asked me who I was. My name's Spencer. You're the girl that always sits on the roof right?" He flashed her a grin. She nodded and then rolled her eyes before pausing to examine him. He was decent looking, she supposed. He had chestnut colored hair that was swept haphazardly to the side, dark eyes and thin lips that were surrounded by a five o'clock shadow.

"Well... Spencer," she cocked her head to the side, "do you not ... watch where you're walking?"

His eyebrows flew up in surprise, obviously not expecting her to be so rude. "Actually, you were the one who ran into me."

She rolled her eyes again. She refused to believe that. He'd been the one barreling around the corner like his ass was on fire and he'd been the one to run into her; not the other way around. "Actually, no."

He opened his mouth as if he was going to argue but she cut him off with a hand. "Just … don't. You're forgiven," she hissed before walking around him towards the door. She didn't have time; Daryl was waiting on her and he'd be waiting a while if she stuck around to argue with him.

"Wait -" she heard him call.

She paused with one hand on the door handle but didn't turn back around to face him.

"You didn't tell me your name."

"It's Beth," she replied dryly before opening the door and leaving him to stare after her with a curious look etched on his face.

As she walked away, she had a distinct feeling that she'd just made a big mistake and the thought weighed heavily on her mind as she made her way towards Alexandria's front gates. She needed to tell Daryl what had happened, she decided, but just as the thought flickered through her mind, she saw him standing against a tree nearby and it disappeared. He was wearing his usual garb; jeans and a vest. He held his crossbow in one hand, a cigarette in the other and a small backpack was thrown over his left shoulder.

He gets better lookin' every time I see him, she thought as her heart began to flutter wildly in her chest. She reached up to pat at her hair, making sure it hadn't fallen out of its ponytail since she'd last checked it, and once she was satisfied that she didn't look like a wild woman, she mumbled a quick 'Hey' to him.

She smiled when his head flew up, a small smile resting easy on his face. "Hey, yerself."

She took a few steps closer, her arm nearly brushing his as she stood beside him. "That kid with … the hat told me you were here."

"Carl. Yeah, I asked 'im to find ya while I got some supplies. Wanted to leave quick or I'd have found ya myself."

She tilted her head. "We goin' somewhere?"

"Huntin'. Figured ya needed a few days out – ya looked like you were getting a bit restless earlier."

Her face broke into a wide smile and she nearly threw her arms around his neck in excitement but thought better of it. The idea of getting out of the town and doing something besides counting and watching people roam around like cattle sounded wonderful. Her face turned into a frown quickly, though, when she realized that she didn't have her knife on her. She'd left it sitting on the chest of drawers in her room.

 _Stupid,_ she thought. Four days inside of some walls and she was already letting her guard down.

"Somethin' wrong?" Daryl asked, his eyes scanning her face.

"Forgot my knife. Stupid."

"Don't matter."

She gave him a questioning look. How did it _not matter,_ she wondered. If she didn't have her weapon then she couldn't protect herself. Her eyebrows furrowed as she watched him set his things on the ground before pulling at the knife that was buckled on his hip. He held it out to her. It was much larger than the one she usually carried and had a silver handle with grooves on it.

He was giving her his knife?

She shook her head. "Your knife. I'll go grab mine."

She quickly turned to walk back towards the house, but she stopped when she felt a light hand on her shoulder. She slowly turned back around.

"Beth," Daryl began, "this ain't my knife. It's yours."

"Daryl, I'm not … takin' your knife," she protested.

She watched as he sighed before shaking his head. "No, Beth. This was yers – from before. I've been carryin' it all this time an' I meant to give it back to ya, I just haven't found tha time or tha place." He shrugged. "I was gonna wait till later on, but now seems like a good time as any, I guess."

Her eyes traveled back and forth between his face and the knife several times before she finally reached out and took it from him. The weight in her palm seemed familiar but it didn't ring any alarms in her head. She couldn't tell whether the thought bothered or or not but she shrugged her shoulders before moving to stick it in the the back of her jeans like she'd done with her other one.

"Wait." she heard him say and she looked up to see him messing with something around his hips. What was he doing?

Moments later, her question was answered as the sheath that usually held the knife was unbuckled and dangling from his hand. He took a step towards her and her breath caught in her throat. She stiffened when he wrapped his arms around her to position the leather material around her waist and her heart began to beat furiously against her ribs when she felt his breath against her cheek. She had the sudden urge to step forward and wrap her arms around him but then moment was over and he was stepping back. Her cheeks were flushed and she was breathing heavy; though she hoped desperately that he wouldn't notice.

"There," he said with a satisfied tone. "Right back where it belongs." He turned back to pick his crossbow and bag up before motioning with a nod of his head for her to follow him. She quickly fastened the knife into the sheath, letting it dangle at her hip before following him, her eyes trained to the wings on his back.

What in the world was wrong with her? She wondered, her mind completely forgetting about the run in with the rude boy from earlier, as they exited the gates and made their way into the woods.

(A/N: Hello, all.

I just wanted to write a quick note to apologize for it being so short. I wanted to get a chapter posted so that you didn't have to wait all weekend for it, so I quickly threw one together. I work weekends and I typically won't have time to write.

Once again, thank you for taking the time to read this and please excuse any mistakes that you may find.

Oh – that reminds me. I'm searching for somebody to help me edit chapters and I'm not entirely sure how to go about doing that so if somebody with a bit more experience will message me (or if anybody is interested in doing it themselves), please message me.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from The Walking Dead. If I did, then I would play the role of Beth and have Daryl kiss me all day long. But, alas, no such thing will ever happen, lol.

Please feel free to leave me a review telling me your thoughts; good or bad.

Thanks, again.

XOXO Courtney


End file.
